Memento Mori
by Digital Tempest
Summary: Evolved drabble. Because they could not stop for death he kindly stopped for them. Death had forgotten that man was a passionate creature. A tale from Death's POV.


**Disclaimer: **If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended. That you did but slumber'd here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme is no more yielding then a dream. Gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend _(Shakespeare)._ I don't own _Final Destination._ No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Notes:** This was inspired by Emily Dickinson's poem "Because I Could Not Stop For Death" and questions from my English class concerning Death's "civility." Parts of this are based on my answers to those questions. This was also inspired by a prompt I posted on my ffnet forums, which went well with some of the questions from my class. This isn't based on characters from any of the movies. Inspired by some of the characters, but not based on any particular FD movie. Excuse any mistakes that might be present. I'll fix them later today.

_**Memento Mori**_

_Because I could not stop for Death  
He kindly stopped for me  
"**Because I Could Not Stop for Death"** by Emily Dickinson_

He'd forgotten that man was a passionate creature, obstinate and uncompromising, believing themselves invincible though life often proved to be fleeting. The premonitions, they treated them like an act of providence. The girl had seen their deaths, and they believed that meant it wasn't their time to die. They were _never_ grateful, confusing appreciation for life with reprieve.

That is where his game began. He liked the rushing, dizzying emotions that man displayed after a brief encounter with death. And while he spared them for his own selfishness, it was only because he saw their subsequent death as a game only he knew the rules for, a game that only he could win.

Death liked to believe that he was civil, a dark seducer who's black kiss meant forever. There always came a point where civility ended, though, and he was allowed to exhibit the true power of Death. He made the unbelievable possible, a feat achieved through brilliant death mechanisms, the ultimate culmination of his power. He would consider them his crowning moments if he were allowed his pride.

"We cheated death," one of them said without the proper amount of reverence.

He hated that term "cheated Death." Man always used it with a certain amount of haughtiness that wasn't becoming of him. Did they truly believe they were more powerful than Death? And if so, what reason did they have to believe they could contend with an entity that has walked the earth since it was barren?

She will be the first to die. He moved to the couch beside her, perching as a bird might on the arm of the couch. Brushing her shoulder gently with one pale hand, she shivered, looking around in fear before turning her eyes back to the others.

"What's wrong?" one of them asked, eyeing her warily.

Death always marveled at the degree of suspicion that man harbored against his fellow man. He could tell from the tone that the person—a dark-haired man—didn't truly believe that he would've died. He thought he was in more danger being around her. The man fooled himself into believing that death didn't want them all, only her.

She'd been the one who had the premonition after all, and some of the others doubted that she'd really glimpsed their death in her premonition. How cynical man could be when it suited him. Death stood from the couch walking over to the man. He will die second because he would feel safe after she died.

Safety would make him careless and uninspiring. He wouldn't properly play the game after she died, and Death had no time to waste with unbelievers. It was better they die as soon as possible, and then the others would see.

"Someone must've walked over my grave," she answered, rubbing her arms with her hands. Man was ingenious creature; Death had to admit. He rather liked the belief that when you suddenly shivered for no reason at all that someone was walking over your final resting place—a physical _memento mori_.

"You don't believe in old wives' tales," one of her friends said, her face stained with tears that would never end.

She would die third because she would sap the will to live away from the rest of them if he allowed her to live any longer. She would plant a seed of hopelessness in their heart, one that would make them wait kindly for his decision instead of fighting him at every turn for their paltry lives.

"I didn't believe in premonitions, either."

"No one walked over your grave," a mousy girl said, her voice barely audible as she raised her brown eyes to look at the others. "It's the chill hand of Death." _Astute, this one,_ Death decided. She understood that their brush with death wouldn't end there. He would save her for last because she would put up the most fight; she would make him work hard for her soul.

She would be the one who tested his graciousness. She would be the one who'd give him the most satisfaction. She would be the one who would realize in her dying moments that they'd never _cheated_ death as he snatched her life away.

You do not cheat Death.

You _cannot_ cheat Death.

You can only play his game and thank him for his consideration.


End file.
